Chapter 3

It was almost five in the afternoon when I got into London, with the directions of my TomTom. I found myself parked across the street from Robert Clark’s office. Sitting there, just watching the entrance.

I wasn’t there for more than twenty minutes when a black Bentley parked outside the solicitors. In the front seats were the two bodyguards I saw a few days ago walking out of Mr Clark’s office. The back seat windows of the car were tinted black. I was unable to see inside. But I had an idea who might be the passenger.

Both bodyguards got out of the car simultaneously. One going to the entrance of the solicitors, while the other opened the back door of the Bentley. As I suspected, it was Designer Suit. He started straightening his jacket while looking to his left and right. Once he was ready, he began making his way into the solicitors. The bodyguard who opened the door for him, following him closely. The other staying outside, standing there with his hands crossed, like a bouncer at a nightclub.

A few minutes later, Randolph appeared, still wearing the shoulder sling. Limping up to the bodyguard, they exchanged words. With the guard shaking his head from left to right, he then pushed Randolph on his injured shoulder. Randolph, stepped back, grasping his arm with his other hand. With his head, down he turned and walked away while the bodyguard stood there laughing at the pain he had caused to Randolph.

Getting out of the car, I crossed the road walking towards the Bentley. Stopping in front of the car, I looked down at the number plates. Memorising the number for future reference. I started inspecting the vehicle, examining the bodywork. Like someone would check a car at a dealership. I walked around the car three times, even looking inside at the interior. I wanted to see how much I could push the bodyguard guarding the door to the solicitors. He just stood there like a statue, staring at me, not flinching a muscle.

Walking up to him, I asked. “How much does something like that set you back?”

“You what mate,” was his reply.

I wanted to provoke him, something was telling me, the designer suit did not have good intentions in the solicitor’s office. I wanted to draw some attention outside, hopefully making the others come out.

“Let me rephrase that for you Cockney, a little slower so you can understand.” Taking a defensive position, waiting to see what his reaction would be. Just as I thought, he started coming towards me. Suddenly the door behind him opened, designer suit walked out, going straight to the Bentley. Followed by the other bodyguard, rushing to get to the car before his boss, to open the door for him.

Cockney, stood there in front of me, his face tight. “Just hope I don’t see you on the street again, you little prick!” he angrily threatened me. I just stood there grinning at him, not saying a word. With a face as red as a cherry, he got into the Bentley. Starting the car up, he drove off, disappearing around the corner.

When I walked into the solicitors, Mrs Jenkins was putting on her Jacket. Mr Clark was locking his office. Hearing the door, they both looked towards me. On seeing me, Mrs Jenkins smiled, with a sigh of relief on her face. She walked up to me, taking my hand and squeezing it.

“I am so glad you decided to come back.”

“Melissa, go home I’ll lock up,” Mr Clark told her.

Standing outside the solicitors, like two people who don’t know each other, wondering what to say next. At the same time, we both try to say something. Stopping, we started laughing together.

Melissa said, “You first.”

“Why don’t we meet here at the solicitor’s tomorrow, we can arrange a meeting with my sister?”

With a radiant face, she responded back. “I have a better idea.”

Confused I said. “What Mrs Jenkins?”

“Have you had something to eat? Because I am famished, if you would like to join me, there is a lovely family owned Greek restaurant just down the street? We can have a meal, and I can tell you about your father and sister. And please do not call me Mrs Jenkins, call me Melissa.”

That is what we did. We had something to eat, then with our dessert and coffee, Melissa told me everything I needed to know about my family.

“I met your dad ten years ago. He walked into Robert’s office inquiring for a solicitor. That week he came to see Robert three times. He told me after we dated, I was the reason he kept coming every other day.”

“Did he ever talk about his previous family?”

“It was five years ago. I had just finished work, Jennifer was out with some friends. When I got home, Martin’s car was in the driveway. He wasn’t downstairs, so I made my way upstairs to our bedroom. Entering the room, he was sitting on our bed. In his hand, a picture of a woman holding a toddler. With tears in his eyes, he said, “It’s my son’s 18th Birthday today.” I was angry, how could he keep such a secret from me. That evening he explained everything to me, how much he loved your mother and you. How he lost his job, which turned him to drinking and eventually becoming an alcoholic and an abusive husband. He was worried, how he was going to support his family. The frustration in not finding a job turned into anger, making him aggressive. I was the first person he had spoken to about what he had done. That is when I felt sad for him, all those years, not having anyone to talk to.” She sat there, staring at her plate, I could see her mind was far away, probably thinking of memories long ago.